Sunday, September 14, 2014

Through Rose Colored Glasses

Venice photo: Aria Cabot

"The dew rose and turned to golden mist, thin as a dream, enveloping them until they seemed gossamer relics of the late night, infinitely transient and already fading. For a moment sea and sky were breathless, and dawn held a pink hand over the young mouth of life..." -F. Scott Fitzgerald

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